When I make an effort, he notices. When it's been a long day, he becomes completely blind. He doesn't see disheveled hair, tired eyes, frumpy clothes. Or if he does, he ignores them. And when I need it most, or even when I don't, he stops to say that I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. I know that what he really means is that I am the most beautiful woman in *his* world, and I wonder how it can be true, after changing yet another diaper, after nearly breaking down in tears after a long day with an emotional toddler or after failing to make the house perfect, again. But there it is. He thinks I'm beautiful. That's all I could ask for.